Picket Fences
by crookedview
Summary: Kate's just gotten out of prison and is living with Jack. But piecing herself together is more difficult than they thought. PostIsland
1. Chapter 1

**A/N Hello, hello! This is the sequel to Waiting for the Music to Begin. For those of you who've read it, THANK YOU! For those of you who haven't, I'll sum it up the ending for you: Kate is out of jail after almost a year, and has just come to live with Jack. Unfortunately, the transition won't be smooth, because even though she is ecstatic to be free and with Jack, she is _seriously_ depressed – more than she'd like to let on.**

Kate woke up in the sleep position that she usually was in – her legs tucked up to her stomach and her arms wrapped around them, like she was cannonballing into a pool. But this time, instead of her face being smothered by a flat prison-issued pillow, it was buried in Jack's chest. This was the first thing she noticed on November 20th, the first day of freedom.

She opened her eyes with a start. The first day of freedom. She didn't even know what she would do with it. She wondered if she could even think of something worthy of such an important day. But she decided quickly that doing anything with Jack was what she wanted to be doing. She lifted her sleepy eyes. Her head was just above Jack's shoulders, her loose hair brushing against his neck. He was still asleep, she saw.

Eager to get up, make coffee, do _something_, she slid soundlessly from the bed without stirring Jack. At the end of the room, she turned and looked at him. She couldn't help but smile. A swell of gratitude made her want to wake him up, just to tell him how thankful she was. She wasn't the kind of person who got all sappy and emotional, but her eyes filled with tears all the same as she wondered for the millionth time how she'd gotten Jack. The question almost hurt her every time she asked herself; what was so great, what had _she _done?

But here she was.

She walked down the hall barefoot, the carpet cool and soft beneath her. She opened the fridge first – it had been a while since she'd actually cooked, but she could at least make an attempt, right? There was barely anything in there at all – condiments, a couple of take-out Styrofoam boxes and some suspicious-looking milk. Men. She searched the cabinets, looking for some lame attempt at something edible. She discovered the very last few Folgers coffee grounds on the counter. There was enough for maybe one cup.

Kate smirked and rolled her eyes, though there was no one to see her expression. Then it hit her – she didn't have to wait around for food. She could just get up, open the door and find a grocery store.

"You idiot," she muttered to herself, but she was thrilled with the simple idea all the same. How could something so normal seem so wonderful?

Scrawling a quick note to Jack on a post-it, she threw on her shoes and pocketed the ten-dollar bill that he'd left on the counter the night before.

She knew she was just wearing a pair of gym shorts, the t-shirt she'd worn yesterday, and her ratty tan prison boots, but the second Kate opened the door to the apartment and her foot hit the pavement, she knew she was going to run. She was going to run as fast as she could, for as long as she could. Forget food; it could wait. She hadn't run in years, not unless she was actually running _away_.

It was the perfect day – not hot, exactly, but warm for November. The sky was a picture book sky with the brightest blue and a few tufts of little clouds here and there. The sound of her heels contacting the sidewalk made a rhythm that coursed through her. The buildings became a blur, and all she thought about was how yesterday, she was sitting on her bed staring at the same page of a newspaper for an hour, watching her roommates sleep and argue with one another.

She didn't know how long she ran, or notice when she got a cramp in her side and her breath became more labored. Her dizziness came on suddenly, with a lurch. Surprised, she bent over and gulped in air. She sat down on the curb and closed her eyes.

A minute passed before someone stopped. "Are you okay?" A man's soft voice said.

She squinted. "Yeah, I'm fine… I might throw up." She said, changing her mind.

"Let's get you off the road, okay?" he said, and without waiting for a response, he half-pulled, half-dragged her across the sidewalk so that she was leaning her back against a brick wall.

After a minute, Kate ventured to open her mouth. "Thanks. I'm… starting to feel better…" she lied. As long as she walked slowly back to the apartment, she should be fine. She opened her eyes all the way and looked up at him.

He was handsome, about thirty, with his head bent down towards her. As she lifted her head to look at him, his eyes widened, and he took a step backwards.

"Jesus Christ!" he gasped.

"What?" Kate was confused. There was surprise in this man's face, but there was also a hint of… recognition. Did she know him? She didn't think so. And then she realized. How could she have been so stupid? For a few moments, she had forgotten that everyone knew her face, and that she had killed her own father.

The stranger knew who _she_ was. Soon after he identified her, she saw fear flash across his eyes. She felt a pang of self-pity. This man was taller and stronger and probably weighed twice what she did. She was sitting on the ground, about to pass out. And he was afraid of her. This was what it was always going to be like. The grief quickly disappeared, and was replaced with a hot fury.

She stood up; steadying herself against the wall and seeing purple pinpricks dot her vision. "I'm not going to murder you, don't worry." Kate spat at him.

He looked even more shocked than he was a second ago. She turned and began to walk back towards Jack's with any dignity that she could muster up, but she stumbled after only a few steps, a new wave of dizziness flooding through her. _Dammit_.

She shuddered as the man grabbed her arm and led her without a word gently into the café she was passing. She sat down, averting her eyes, furious that she had allowed him to help. She pressed her forehead to the table, feeling the cool surface against her burning skin. It also covered her face from any other asshole that recognized her, she noted.

The man bent to her ear and whispered, "Sorry. Okay? I was surprised. Are you all right?"

Turning her head, she glared at him, still angry but also the slightest bit curious. He sure changed his mind quickly about her being a danger. And though she'd never admit it, she was thankful for that. The café was dark and air conditioned, and she was starting to feel better already.

"Should I call 911?" he asked. She studied his face. It was actually very kind. His eyes crinkled at the corners as if he smiled too much, and concern was etched across his face.

"I just… do you have a cell phone?" She wanted Jack to take her home so badly that a lump formed in the back of her throat. She felt stupid and babyish, and swallowed a few times.

The man let her call Jack, and after giving a few directions, Jack promised he'd be right there. She could hear the worry in his voice as he hung up. She gave the phone back, muttering thanks.

"No problem." He said. "Are you feeling better?"

She nodded. There was an awkward silence as they both looked at each other. Kate was reminded painfully of a shy boy named Matt who she'd dated when she was fourteen.

"You're probably wondering who the hell I am." The man said, smiling slightly. "Luke March. I'm a social worker." He extended his hand.

Kate hesitated. Oh, the irony. Then she grudgingly shook it, letting her hand drop in her lap. "My guess is, you already know who I am." She said, slightly bitterly.

"Sure," was all he said. He reached into his pocket. "I even have a business card." He said brightly, laying it on the table between them. "So, if you ever need any help with anything…" he let the sentence remain unfinished.

"What, am I just here for a sales pitch?" Kate asked, but she was smiling now. She had begun to like this guy. For his benefit, she took the card and shoved it into her shorts pocket. "You really don't know who you're dealing with."

Luke smiled back. "I don't at all." He was suddenly serious. "I apologize. It was utterly inhumane of me to act the way I did. You're not a monster."

"You don't know that either." Kate shot back at him, resting her chin in one hand.

"You're not." He repeated. "I can tell that now."

"That's not what everyone else says. I've heard it. Just because I was…" she lowered her voice. "Just because I was in prison doesn't mean I don't hear what they say. Everyone was shocked when they heard my sentence. Someone compared me to O.J. Simpson… Scott Peterson…" Her voice was hard and cold.

He shrugged. "That's just one person."

"Everyone does."

Luke raised his eyebrows. "Does he?" He looked past Kate's shoulder.

She turned. Jack stood in the doorway. In an instant, he was by her side. "Kate? Are you all right?" He wrapped his arm around her waist and helped her up. Kate looked between the two men; one that she loved and knew her inside and out, and the other that was a stranger but seemed to know everything that she didn't.

She answered Luke. "No."

Jack paused, looking confused.

Luke smiled almost lazily at Kate. "Neither do I. And that's already two people."

She looked at him for a long moment. "Thank you." She said thoughtfully, and they both knew she was not thanking him for pulling her off the sidewalk.

Her gaze switched to Jack. He looked troubled; seemingly worried that he was on the outside of something important. She gave him a reassuring look, a loving look that she gave no one else in the world.

She had no idea it would be this difficult to function, but Jack would be here through it all.


	2. Chapter 2 Part I

**A/N - This is part I of Chapter 2. The second part will arrive shortly!**

Her eyes were half-open, and she could feel him breathing. Her head rested on his chest, his chin lightly touching her hair, his arms around her stomach. The television flickered underneath her eyelids. The drone of a woman's voice echoed through her ears, but Kate didn't try to discern what she was saying.

The day was wonderful. After Jack had asked a hundred times if she was all right, they had decided to drive around the city.

"It was probably just overexertion." Jack had reassured her, but she knew he was really reassuring himself. "You've been cooped up for so long, and you didn't even eat breakfast. Are you hungry? Are you _sure_ you feel better?"

When Kate could stand the car no longer, she begged Jack to park in a lot so they could walk. They meandered down busy streets for hours, breathing in the scent of foods wafting from restaurants and taking in the bright lights and flashy signs. Jack realized how much he had missed; work had taken up so much of his life that he had never really explored the place where he lived.

"You haven't explored?" Kate teased. "Mister 'I'm going into the jungle on a dangerous mission' hasn't explored L.A.?"

Jack had groaned. "No more dangerous missions!"

They were home now, and it was past midnight. Kate felt the warmth of Jack's body and the comfortable feeling of having spent a day worth living. She began drifting in and out of sleep, though she tried hard to stay awake.

"You're doing that thing." Jack said softly into her ear.

"What thing?" Kate mumbled.

"When you're trying not to fall asleep and your eyes flutter open and closed." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Sorry." She sat up. He looked sorry she did, so she quickly settled back down on his shoulder. "What are you going to do? Now that you've quit your job?"

"Well, technically, I still have a job. I haven't told them that I'm leaving yet. I feel guilty about it, after they gave me my position the second I came back to the hospital. But… i don't know, the day of your trial, I had a surgery scheduled for the same time as your trial was supposed to start. And I stood there, thinking about you, and my hands started shaking." He looked down at her upturned face. "Not a good thing when you're about to go into surgery. I knew right then that I couldn't do it, so I left. The thing is, it wasn't just my hands. Right then, I felt some sort of shift. I can't really explain it. But ever since then, I've been miserable there."

"Wow." Kate breathed, knowing how important this change was.

"It doesn't make any sense, I know. I used to love my work more than anything, and then, just like that…" he trailed off, thinking.

"I used to like riding horses." Kate said abruptly. "I had one until I was fourteen. He was a huge black horse. His name was Barley." She snorted. "It's a stupid name, but I was seven when I got him. Once, we were riding, and he got spooked by a dog. He fell on his leg, and it broke." She closed her eyes, remembering. "We had to put him to sleep. _Wayne_ put him to sleep." She said bitterly.

Jack ran his hand up and down her shoulder.

"That horse was the first thing I killed." No tears squeezed out of her eyes, but her throat burned.

Jack didn't say anything, and she was grateful. If he had tried to reason with her, she would have been furious. But he knew her well enough that just allowing her to speak was enough. He knew that she didn't want comfort, and that she was too stubborn to change her mind now.

"Ever since then, I have hated every goddamn horse I've seen." She swallowed hard. "But… I guess that's different from your surgeon problem." She finished, and opened her dry eyes.

"I guess." Jack agreed quietly. That was all he said, and somehow, his silence calmed her. He stayed that way, rubbing her arm and holding her, until her head was clear, her eyes stopped fluttering, and she was asleep.

* * *

**Okay, so I just can't stop being depressing. What do you guys think? Should I lay off the emo-ness? Or do you trust me?**


	3. Chapter 2 Part 2

**A/N - All right, Draco's-Loyal-Longing, here is your lighter chapter! But don't worry, my friends, this fic has not become fluff; (though I do love a good fluff...) the next chapter should be fairly depressing, and let's just say it's going to get worse before it gets better. I love all reviews!**

"Kate? Kate!"

She awoke to gentle prodding and a whisper in her ear. Out of sorts, Kate sat up and looked around. Jack was kneeling in front of her, where she was still lying on the sofa. Outside, it was still pitch-black.

Jack had an apologetic expression. "I'm sorry I had to wake you up, but I forgot that my next shift would be at six. I have to go."

Kate rubbed her eyes. "What time is it?"

"Four forty-five. Listen, just go back to sleep, but I've set the alarm in the kitchen for nine. Make sure you're up by then, okay?"

"Why?"

But Jack was up and was shrugging on a navy blue jacket. "If you go outside, put on one of my coats, okay? The temperature's really dropped. Oh, and sunglasses, maybe a hat? I don't want you getting mauled by reporters." He strode across the room back to her, and kissed her. "I love you."

He turned, but glanced back at her, saw her shocked expression and froze. "What's wrong?"

She inhaled deeply and hesitated. "I don't think… you've ever said that before." She half-whispered, staring at him.

Jack looked surprised. They locked eyes for a long, silent moment. Then he repeated loudly, with a slow smile, "I. Love. You."

Kate jumped up and threw her arms around him, squeezing him so tightly that he gasped. "I love you too." she spoke into his ear. "Come home as soon as you can. God, what am I going to _do _all day?"

Jack grinned. "Just wake up at nine." He told her, and he was out the door.

Perplexed and giddy, Kate flopped back down on the couch to fall back to sleep, but couldn't. She turned the television on, but there was nothing that interested her. She was being her typical restless self, and she knew that it would only get worse if she didn't do something. Turning on the coffeepot, she pulled her tangled hair out of a ponytail and raked her fingers through it. She took a quick shower, poured herself a travel cup of coffee, and left the apartment by five-thirty.

As Kate stepped out onto the sidewalk, the sky was lightening to an ugly brownish color. She set off at a brisk walk, not knowing or caring where she was going. All she wanted was to feel the cool air on her face and look up at not a ceiling, but disappearing stars; look forward at not a wall or cell bars, but trees and apartments with people just beginning to wake up. She wondered about these people – they were normal, she guessed. They were maybe bored and unhappy, but they were normal.

They had never killed anyone, or been on the run, or been in a plane crash, or faced monsters and crazy islanders, or been in prison. Or been through all of that, and been miraculously as happy as she was now.

She walked and saw and thought until the people swarmed around her, going to work and school and God knew what else. She continued to stroll lightly down the road.

Finally growing weary, Kate headed home. As she neared the garage, she noticed a couple sitting on the bench in front of the apartment building. The woman had long, blonde hair, and the man's hair was brown. They were sitting close together, about the same height, and they were discussing something that seemed important. She switched her gaze to two girls in matching school uniforms. They giggled and lugged their heavy backpacks and for a quick moment, Kate felt a pang of homesickness.

Not that Iowa was really her home. Her family life was not… considered the best in the town, and it went without saying that everyone knew that now. But she used to have a normal school life – best friends, petty jealousies, parties… there were years before everything happened that were fundamentally good.

She smiled at the girls over her sunglasses, and they shyly smiled back. She was fumbling in her pocket for the key to the building when someone called her name.

"Kate?"

She nearly jumped out of her skin. She did _not _want to be recognized, not when she was in such a good mood. But she turned to look around all the same.

The couple on the bench had stood up and was advancing on her. For a split second, Kate panicked. Then she gasped and dropped the keys onto the ground in astonishment.

It was Claire and Charlie.

Suddenly the two of them were all over her, hugging her and asking her questions and kissing her on the cheek until she was flushed with embarrassment. She pulled them inside the building before anyone wondered what the fuss was all about.

"Kate!" Claire beamed once again as the three of them climbed the stairs to the apartment. "How are you?"

Kate grinned at her long lost friends. "I'm out of prison, that's how I am. How are you guys? Where's Aaron?"

"Oh, we're fine. Aaron's fine. We got a babysitter. Jack said he was going to work and you needed company, so he told us to surprise you. We thought you'd never come!"

"Guess Jack doesn't know you very well." Charlie exclaimed cheerfully. "You're your own company."

"Not always," Kate assured him, smiling.


	4. Chapter 3

It had been a week now – one week since Kate was out of prison. She had reunited, loved and explored. Jack had worked three fourteen-hour shifts since then, and he still hadn't had the guts to declare his resignation. Kate teased him lightheartedly, but secretly was afraid that he would never sum up the courage and continue working there forever.

While he was gone, she would tidy the apartment, walk around the city, and watch people from behind her dark sunglasses. She'd visit shops and walk through lobbies just because she could – she could go anywhere she wanted. This idea still felt new and exciting to her after a whole year of being told where to stay, where to go and what to do.

Claire and Charlie had come again, bringing Aaron this time. He was two years old now, old enough to run around the apartment a bit unsteadily and giggle when Claire scooped him up. Kate loved their company – they were what she hoped she could be. They were in the limelight a lot these days, what with the whole plane crash, Charlie performing solo, and the two of them just getting married a few months ago. But even though they were chased and interviewed and spied on, they were _happy_.

The one big difference was that they were famous because of success, not murder.

Today, it was overcast; the thick gray clouds looked about to burst open at any moment. All the same, Kate decided to go for a run. Jack wouldn't be back from work for another five hours. She had plenty of time. She hated being cooped up anywhere, and a little rain couldn't hurt. Kate shook the thought from her head that she was already getting restless. No. She wasn't restless. She was happy to stay here. In one place. With Jack.

She ran for a long time, down sidewalks and crossing streets and dodging people. She slowed down when she saw shops and stores that interested her, but she came to a complete stop when she was jogging past a music store. Instruments were displayed in the lighted windows, and the place looked inviting and interesting. Without even realizing it, she was stepping inside and looking around. She ran her hand lightly over the guitars and gazed at the racks and racks of cds.

A clerk about her age approached her, looking a bit curious. Kate realized that this girl's expression was probably due to the fact that she was still wearing her sunglasses. The girl wore a nametag that said, "Hello, my name is STARLA" and a smile. "Can I help you?" she asked.

Kate took a deep breath, pulled off her sunglasses, put them in her pocket and said, "I'd like to apply for a job here."

Just like that, she knew that working here would be good for her. She would have something to do, and the place was bright and cheery. Kate looked carefully at the clerk named Starla to see if she had recognized her for Kate Austen, fresh-out-of-jail murderer. Nothing.

Starla just smiled more. "Okay, well you're in luck, because we actually need another employee. One guy just quit." She hurdled with ease and agility over the front desk and began rummaging through a drawer. "Not that it's a bad job." She added in a muffled voice. "He's going to college." She stood up and said cheerfully, "I dropped out. College is for squares." And handed her an application.

Kate was put a little at ease because of Starla's infectious happiness. She smiled at her, and asked, "I never finished college either. Can I fill this out right here?"

"Sure."

Kate began to fill out the sheet. What were the odds of her actually getting this job? Sure, she was a straight-A student and had held two fairly prestigious jobs, but things _kind of _went downhill. But maybe this would actually work out. Maybe…

She handed the form to Starla once she was done.

Starla took it. "All right, I'll give you a call once I've gone over your app with the other manager."

"Thanks."

Scanning the sheet, Starla said, "Thank you, Kate…" and then she stopped. Kate saw her eyes go from the sheet to Kate's face and back to the sheet. Starla was no longer smiling; in fact, she paled a little and her eyebrows knitted. "Oh." She whispered.

Kate flushed and opened her mouth to speak, but couldn't think of anything to say. "Will…" she swallowed hard. "Will you just look at it?"

Starla attempted to change her expression to one of nonchalance. "Of course we'll look at it!" she said loudly, in a pained voice that suggested fear. "Thank you very much." She took a step backward, then turned and disappeared into a back room.

_Stupid idea,_ Kate thought as she rushed out of the door before she could be humiliated any more. _Stupid fucking idea._ She stormed down the sidewalk, back towards the apartment. She was furious at herself and furious at Starla and furious at Jack for not quitting his goddamn job… she shook her head. It wasn't fair to be angry at Jack. He couldn't just drop his whole life for her. She was being selfish enough – to blame him for anything at all was just awful of her.

Then something flashed in her face, momentarily blinding her and sending her reeling.

It was a camera.

Two men had jumped in front of her and were flashing cameras, snapping picture after picture of her. They were smiling - actually smiling at Kate's bewilderment, her obvious fear. They reveled in it.

In a panic, she tried to shove them away. She would be on the covers of magazines, she would never be left alone, she would be hated forever by people she didn't even know.

"Stop!" Kate shrieked at them. Digging her elbows into their arms, she finally pushed past them and ran faster than she'd ever run back to the apartment. She was faster than when she was running from the police, from unseen monsters, even when she was running from Wayne. She just wanted it all to be over. She wanted to stop the publicity, the embarrassment, the judgements.

Kate slammed the apartment door and collapsed against it in a heap. She held her head in her hands, pressing her palms hard against her face until she saw purple blots float around beneath her closed eyes.

"Dammit!" she whispered. "Dammit, dammit, dammit."


	5. Chapter 4

**A/N – Okay, so not to toot my own horn or anything, but who caught the fact that this was the music store that Hurley went into in a flashback episode, and Starla was the girl he asked out? Because I was really proud I weaved that in. ****Anyways, here is Chapter 4! I did my best, CaughtInTheMoment! Just so you all know, this fic's going to be shorter than the other one. I think it'll be eight chapters. Enjoy, I hope!**

The door creaked open and was slammed shut at exactly 8:00 PM,right when Jack hadpromised he'd be home.

She heard his footsteps, heard him call, "Kate? Are you here?" She heard his voice come closer as he entered the bedroom. She heard him say, "What are you doing?" and that he sounded as if he was alarmed.

She didn't turn around or look up. She saw the cold ground, dying grass, a fence and a dumpster three flights below her.

"Kate, what are you doing on the fire escape?" Jack was a few feet behind her now, but Kate didn't remove her focus from the ground beneath.

"I'm just sitting." She muttered. She sat on the railing of the fire escape, having climbed out of the window to clear her thoughts, or at least try to. She didn't know how long it had been since she had sat down on the railing, her legs wrapped around the bars and her feet dangling over the edge. After she had escaped the paparazzi, she had just opened the window without thinking, and sat out there. It was dark now. Her hands were numb, so she guessed it was cold out. "I like to be above things. So just for a minute I can see everything that's going on near me. For once I can see what's going on; everything makes sense."

"C'mere." Before she knew it, Jack grabbed her around the waist with a quick jolting motion, and jerked her backwards.

"Jesus Christ!" Kate screamed. The backs of her knees hit the metal hard as Jack dragged her back. She landed on the first step of the escape on her feet, but stumbled backwards into the side of the building.

"You could have killed me!" She yelled at him, furious. Her heart was pounding and her legs throbbed. She leaned against the wood paneling for support.

Jack took a step closer to her, looking concerned. "_You_ could have killed you. Are you okay?"

Her appearance must have been startling, she could give him that. Half of her hair had been whipped out of her ponytail by the wind, and her face felt raw and burned by the cold air. Her hands were red, and one of them was bleeding across the knuckles. She didn't remember how that happened. But she was still livid. She had been dragged rudely out of her trance, Jack had no right.

"As a matter of fact, no." She said bitingly.

"Okay," Jack said calmly. "Let's just get back into the apartment."

Kate thought about flat-out refusing to go inside, thought about shouting at him more; picking a fight she knew he wouldn't participate in. But he placed his hand lightly on her shoulder - not moving her towards the window, just resting it there. She knew he was just worried and she was just lashing out as well as being juvenile if she stubbornly stayed outside. She ducked her head and climbed into the apartment. He followed her inside and went immediately for the comforter on the bed. He pulled it off and wrapped it around her. She realized how much she'd been shivering.

He stood in front of her, their faces only two inches away from each other. "What's wrong?" he asked simply.

She sat down cross-legged on the bed, the blanket still wrapped tightly around her. "I tried to get a job today."

He sat down next to her. "Where?"

"Some music store. I thought, hey, here's something to keep me occupied, something to get me to live a semi-normal life again. But I forgot that no one trusts a murderer. Kind of understandable, I guess. And they all just hate me more because I got a light sentence. 'Why didn't she get what she deserved? She should have rotted in prison all her life. She should have been given the death sentence.'" She took on a high, mocking voice. "'Why should she be able to roam the streets, ready to take the next guy she sees and blow him _to smithereens_!'" she screamed the last two words, and they echoed through the room strangely.

She didn't look at Jack; she couldn't look at Jack. She stared at a lamppost outside, and kept her eyes focused on that.

"So I left after being judged by a girl I hadn't spoken ten words to, who could blame her, and was attacked by two freaking paparazzi. And they had these… these huge smiles on their faces, like they hit it big to catch _Kate _on the street!" She stopped and caught her breath.

"How'd you get away?" Jack asked quietly.

"I shoved them away. Shit!" she moaned, covering her face with one hand. "What if they –"

"Kate, the paparazzi are pushed around all the time. They're not going to press charges; they were the ones harassing you. Kate."

She still didn't lift her head.

He stood up; the bed creaked slightly. "I'm going to make you some tea. You'll be all right."

Somehow, the way he said both of these things as if they were simple facts made her feel better. She lay down and rolled over on her stomach. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe evenly; she had been holding in air and gasping in turn. She tried to calm herself.

In a few minutes, Jack was back in the room. She heard him place the mug of tea onto the coffee table with a faint clink. She felt him run his fingers lightly up and down her spine in an effort to soothe her. He sat down again.

Five or so minutes passed without a word. Then Jack spoke hesitantly.

"Have you ever considered anti-depression pills?" He asked, and Kate knew instantly that he had been trying to gather courage to say this for months, even when she was in prison. No, especially when she was in prison.

She sat up, feeling the anger that had simmered begin to boil up inside her again. "Yes. I considered anti-depression back when I was in the hospital. Almost a year ago, when that nutritionist told me I was anorexic and depressed. I considered anti-depression pills to be a crutch for weak people who choose not to deal with their own emotions. I considered them to be a screwed up scientific way of pretending to solve your problems when you don't have the time or the energy to actually face them. I considered them a shitty waste of money and medicine and I considered them not to be for me."

Jack looked taken aback and slightly hurt, but he didn't give up. "Kate… think about all you've been through. Don't you ever want -"

Now she was pissed. Anything the slightest bit displeasing today was something that would send her off the deep end. She realized this, but she continued. "Think about all I've been through, Jack? Oh, okay! Good idea, I haven't done that at all. I'll just sit here and pity myself for a while, and then I'll want to take some pills to make it all better!"

"Pity yourself is all you did in prison!" Jack suddenly seethed. "And now you're out, and you can live your life. Sure, it's never going to be perfect. But I can't stand to see you hide away from people that don't matter. You used to be one of the strongest people I knew! On the island, it was always, 'I want to go with you' and 'let's go to the cockpit' and 'I want to help find Walt'!"

Kate glared at him, rigid. "There's a difference," she told him in a quiet, dangerous tone, "between _strong_ and _brave_."

She stood up. "And there's a difference between what you need to handle and what you can stuff deep down inside you with a little help from a little orange bottle you get at the freaking CVS." She stormed out of the room, and as she did, knocked over the cup of tea. It splashed down her hand and arm and spattered all over her bare feet. Kate yelped in surprise and pain, and clutched her burnt hand to her chest.

Jack leapt to her side, but she ignored him. She swore under her breath as the first tears began to fall.


	6. Chapter 5

Falling asleep finally at four, Kate woke up two hours later, discombobulated and in pain. She was in the living room instead of in the bed. It took her a moment to remember that she'd curled up in the armchair last night, resisting the urge to throw on her coat and storm out of the apartment.

She untangled herself, standing and feeling the consequences of sleeping there – her neck was stiff and throbbing, and her legs were on pins and needles from being bent for so long. She walked to the kitchen and flipped the coffeemaker on. Then she leaned over the counter and stared out the window. It was another overcast day. Those days were Kate's least favorite. Either let it rain or shine, but she hated to see clouds that she knew would never burst open, but rather sit in the sky dejectedly.

She rubbed her neck irritably. This was going to be an unpleasant day.

As if on cue, Jack's alarm went off, and a few minutes later, he staggered into the room, still half-asleep. They looked at each other for a moment. He was the first to break eye contact, shifting his to the coffee.

"Thanks for turning it on." He muttered.

Kate didn't say anything, but turned to watch the clouds again. She could feel Jack's glare on her back.

"What, am I getting the silent treatment?" he asked with more than a touch of annoyance in his voice.

Kate didn't turn to look at him, knowing that if she did, she'd only get angrier. "No, Jack.You're not. That's a bit juvenile." She tried to make her voice even and indifferent. It didn't work.

"It's also a bit juvenile to be stubborn enough to try to fix everything on your own. Asking for help doesn't mean it's the end of the world."

This time, Kate did turn, causing a searing pain to go through her neck, traveling down her shoulders. "Do you have to keep _jabbing_ at me? This is why –" she cut herself off mid-word, feeling shaken. She didn't want to fuel the fire. Things were bad enough right now, without her going there. She got up, despite her deep discomfort and looked through the cupboard.

Jack took a step closer, so his face was inches from hers. "This is why what?"

She slammed down a coffee cup. For a moment, she wondered if she broke it. She hoped she did, and that it was expensive. She turned to face him head-on. She was just going to spit it out. Too late now.

"This is why I didn't want to be with you in the first place. On the island? You always had to be _perfect_. You couldn't let any disorder or dysfunction or _anything_ happen on your watch! Oh, no! You needed everything to be your way. Your orders. Your decisions. You can't do that all the time, Jack! You're obsessed with fixing everything. You can't put me on pills and fix me!" Kate pulled away, seething. She touched her finger tips to her forehead, trying to stop the pounding. Then she stood straight and screamed, "You can't fix everything with the _push_ of a _button_!"

Jack stood a few feet away, his hands at his sides, looking shell-shocked.

Kate was breathing heavily, her mind whirring. She should have known that this wouldn't work. She should have just stayed friends with him. They were too different. She would only destroy his life, and he would only drive her crazy. Her heart broke. She loved him.

Jack picked up the porcelain cup that Kate had slammed down on the table. There was a chip at the bottom, and a sliver of a crack that spindled up to the rim. He blinked a few times and swallowed before speaking. "You think I want to fix you?" he asked, his voice defeated and broken-sounding. He shook his head. "You think that that after-"

But the phone rang shrilly over his soft voice.

They both jumped.

Kat reached over and picked it up. "Hello?" She tried to make her voice sound normal, but she was sure that whoever was on the other line would know that she was unhappier than she'd ever been in prison.

"Kate? It's Claire." Claire sounded cheerful; Kate couldn't believe that someone was cheerful when she was so miserable. How was it that the whole world wasn't as desolate as she was?

"Hi Claire." Kate waited for there to be some important reason that she and Jack were interrupted.

"Did I wake you? I just wanted to confirm that we were still getting coffee this morning at seven-thirty before I go to work. Is Jack coming?"

Kate hesitated. Should she cancel? No. She needed a reprieve from this hell. "No, I don't think he can." she lied. "But I'll be there at seven-thirty, ok? Bye."

She hung up rather rudely but didn't care. Claire would know soon enough what was going on. If Jack didn't want to deal with her anymore, Kate was sure that Claire would let her stay with her and Charlie, just for a week or so. Her gaze shifted from the phone in its cradle back to Jack.

He looked like he hadn't slept much either. He was very pale except for the dark bags underneath his eyes. He still wore just a pair of gym shorts and a ratty old t-shirt. He actually looked physically sick at this confrontation.

She cleared her throat and averted her eyes, unable to look at him anymore. "I, uh… I'm going to go get coffee with Claire."

"What, now?" Jack said incredulously. "I didn't finish –"

"I can't listen anymore. I can't. Not right now. I'm going to change into my clothes, and then I'm going. Can I borrow the car?"

"Not unless I'm coming with you."

"Then I'll walk." Kate went into the bedroom and pulled a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt out of the dresser. She threw them clumsily on; her hands shook with emotion. As hard as she tried not to allow it, two tears spilled over her cheeks as she bent to put on her sneakers. She strode across the kitchen, grabbing the keys before Jack could, and slammed the door of the apartment. As the stumbled down the stairs, she heard the door reopen and slam again, and she knew Jack wasn't giving up.

Her stumbling turned into a run, and it was suddenly as if they were racing to the car. Once she reached the garage, she leapt into the driver's seat and put the key in the ignition. Just as she was about to start the engine, the passenger door opened and Jack defiantly got into the car.

Kate glared at him. "Get out of the car." She said furiously.

Jack didn't bother to mention that it was his car. "No. You have to listen to me. You can't keep running. You could have a real life if you _stopped running._"

"Get _out._ Of the car!" Kate yelled.

"You can't drive when you're like this!" Jack yelled back.

"Don't tell me what I can't do!" she screamed.

There was a long moment of tension, where they simply glared at each other and hated themselves. Jack's eyes glittered with fury like Kate had never seen. She wanted more than anything for him to leave, so she could get away from him. She wanted to cool down, she wanted to leave L.A. She wanted to go to the beach, where she could relax and be in a wide open space that smelled like the island when she was free. She wanted to get away from this morning that had turned into a nightmare.

But instead she started the car with the jerk of a hand, and pulled out. She drove fast, but she wanted to drive faster. She wanted to barrel through the morning traffic and go a hundred miles an hour until she'd blown off all the steam.

"Kate, you should slow down –"

Kate looked daggers at him. "_Don't_ talk to me."

She brought the speed down a little, realizing that she _was_ going a little fast. She couldn't help it; she couldn't concentrate. Her hands shook and her face was flushed. She couldn't stop thinking horrible thoughts about leaving Jack forever and never seeing anyone she loved again. Never seeing the only person who loved her again. Just running and running and jumping from place to place, just like she did when she was on the run.

She could never be fully happy because she would never change. Her past self was still her present-day self, so she would never be any better than when she was five years ago. Her life would just keep repeating itself over and over until she died.

Kate came to this realization, and a split-second later, she drove straight into a tree.

The last thing she remembered was her own voice screaming, "Jack!" over and over, until the name she screamed changed to Tom, and then back again to Jack until she didn't know what she was screaming and she didn't know how to stop.

Not again.

**A/N - Okay, a cliffhanger. I'm evil. I apologize. Please forgive me and review!**


	7. Chapter 6

**A/N - Voila! The only Jack-centric chapter in Picket Fences. So, right off the bat, you know he isn't dead... yet... **

**mwa ha ha!**

It took Jack a minute to get over the shock. He hadn't been knocked out, but all the same, he felt disoriented and out-of-place. He opened his eyes to see that the car had been going so fast that the metal of the hood had been smashed in, only a couple of inches away from his head. The huge trunk of the tree they'd driven in was pulled up from its roots, so that it was half in the ground, half leaning across the crashed car. The windshield was smashed and shattered. He dazedly marveled at the fact that he was still alive.

It didn't change the fact that he was afraid to look to his left. It was like he was frozen, looking forward and nowhere else. If Kate was dead… If Kate was dead, he'd want to be dead too. The thought stunned him. But before he could gather the courage to turn his head to look at her, Kate began to scream.

Her voice was shrill, and it made him shiver involuntarily. It wasn't even her real voice that made this unearthly, mourning sound. He realized that she was shrieking out a name – his name. That scared him even more.

In a flash, he had pulled himself forward and had her by the shoulders. Kate was draped across the dashboard as if she'd been trying to crawl over the steering wheel. She was facedown, the wheel digging into her stomach, her arms trapped beneath her.

He didn't know what to do. For the first time, he didn't know what to do with this injured person, this girl who had miraculously not been thrown out of the windshield. Jack was afraid to move her; he knew a person should never move an injured person until an EMT came. That was rule number one. But he also knew that he could not and would not just leave her like that, and he couldn't calm her when she was at the very front of the car, her head just hitting the glass of the windshield.

"Kate, Kate!" he shouted over her wails. "Kate, I'm right here. I'm okay. Katherine! You're going to be all right. Come on, Kate."

She couldn't hear him, he realized, and this discovery made him feel like a weight had just dropped in his stomach. She wasn't really _here;_ she was in hysterics. He pulled her as carefully as he could, pulled her over the dashboard and onto her seat. She screamed louder, her breath coming in panic-stricken gasps. Without thinking, he was next to her in the driver's seat, his arms around her, her bleeding head on his shoulder.

Her screams gradually turned to sobs, and this was even worse. What frightened Jack most was her eyes. Though she cried like he'd never heard anyone cry before, no tears formed. In fact, her normally bright eyes were clouded and blank. It was like... it was like she was already dead.

"Kate," he cried out frantically. "I'm here. Calm down. Kate, can you hear me?"

He realized that there was someone at the window, a woman, who looked pale and sick. "I called 911, they're on their way. Are you okay?" she told him in a tight, scared voice. The woman's eyes kept flicking to Kate in his arms, conscious but in complete shock.

"No," Jack said helplessly. "No, we're not."

To his immeasurable relief, she began to quiet herself. After five minutes, she was still gasping almost asthmatically, but only whimpering softly. Jack hated to see her like this. This was not Kate. Kate didn't _whimper_. He knew she would be disgusted if she could really hear herself.

As the first raindrops began to fall against the smashed windows, Jack buried his face in her hair that was sticky with blood and waited for the sound of a siren.

**"**Is there any family we should call for Katherine?" a nurse asked.

"I'm her family." Jack said quietly. He sat in a chair in the hospital room. He was next to Kate, who lay still on her bed. Her blank eyes were closed now, and she was as white as the starched sheets that were pulled up to her waist. There was a gash across her forehead, just up to her hairline that had just been stitched up. Two of her ribs was cracked where she'd hit the steering wheel. There were tubes coming out of her nose – the doctors had been concerned about her irregular breathing.

_A miracle, a miracle she survived_. The doctors kept saying. _Both of you. You barely have a scratch on you. You're very lucky._ Jack didn't feel very lucky. Kate had been unconscious since a few minutes after she'd been put into the ambulance. All the tests the doctors had taken on her had not shown what she would be like when she woke up. Confusion, memory loss, post-traumatic stress…

Jack grasped her limp hand, the one without needles poking out of it. Silent minutes passed, and he didn't notice.

"Mr. Shepherd? Have you been examined?" A woman asked from behind.

"No. I'm fine." Jack answered firmly without lifting his head.

"You were in a severe car crash. You need to be examined."

He couldn't bear to tear his eyes from Kate, but he was finally pulled from the room.

He didn't feel it when the cut on his own head was sewn up or when the glass was taken out of the slashes across his arms. He only flinched slightly when the doctor relocated the shoulder he hadn't noticed was out of its socket. He refused the sling and the neck brace. As he walked back to Kate's room, he also passed the waiting room. He would never have recognized Claire if she hadn't tearfully called out his name.

She was in his sore arms before he'd managed to open his mouth in surprise. She pulled away.

"I'm sorry! Did I hurt you? How's Kate? They won't let me see her. Oh, my God." Her legs shook and she sat down again, her head in her hands. Jack leaned against the wall for support. He hadn't realized how weak he felt.

"I don't know." Jack whispered. "I don't know how she is."

"I'm so sorry. It's my –"

"If you say it's you're fault, Claire, I'll kill you." Jack said painfully. "We crashed because she was driving to Starbucks. To get away from me. Because I told her she should go on anti-depressants, and then decided to lecture her on how to live her life. But I couldn't just let her go. I had to follow her and piss her off even more. Her life is ruined, and I had the _fucking _nerve to tell her. As if she _didn't already know._" He slid to the floor, choking on his words. "And she thinks I want to _fix_ her, like I wanted to fix Sarah. But…" he took a shaky breath. "I just want Kate… I just don't want her to hate herself. She _hates herself._"

Claire was crying, tears falling to the coffee-stained carpet. She didn't say a word. There wasn't anything that she could say. She looked at Jack, and he knew she understood.

He got up slowly, purple dots blurring his vision for a moment, and left. As he walked out of the room, he brushed his hand against Claire's. And she knew she had helped.

Jack collapsed back into his chair. He wearily leaned his elbow on the arm of the chair and rested his chin in his hand. _Kate. I wish you knew how beautiful you are._ He closed his eyes.

"Jack."

Her voice was barely audible, but his eyes flew open in surprise.

"Kate!" he cried out.

The slightest bit of color rose in her sickly cheeks, and her sleepy eyes were half-open and resting lucidly on him. Her lips were the slightest bit parted. He grabbed both her hands and she squeezed them weakly.

"Kate. Oh, my God." Jack breathed. "How do you feel? When's you're birthday?"

"When's my…"

"It's a memory test."

She breathed shallowly before answering. "December 6th."

He smiled, exuberant, and she smiled faintly back. "I didn't know if you'd be okay. I didn't know…how are you feeling?"

"It really hurts to breathe and my head is pounding." She put her bruised hand to her face and felt the tubes, confused.

"You broke two ribs. The tubes are just there to help. You're going to be okay. You're going to be fine." Jack assured her.

She tried to smile again. "Better than handcuffs." She managed to whisper, recalling her last hospital visit, after she had had a mental breakdown in prison. Her eyes fluttered closed and then snapped open again, trying in vain to remain focused on him.

Though he could see the exhaustion written across her face, Jack could also see that Kate's eyes were alive again. This was what really convinced him that she was going to survive. In the car, at the scene of that horrible accident just a few hours ago, he had been sure that he had been looking into the eyes of a dead girl. Now, though they were worn-out and bloodshot, he could see the dullness was gone. Kate was back.

Jack remembered to press the button that summoned a nurse so Kate could be examined again, but she had resumed sleeping by the time someone came.

It didn't matter. Jack was told that Kate would be fine. _It was a miracle,_ they said. _It was a miracle._


	8. Teaser

**A/N – Okay, guys. This has been a disaster, so I'm so sorry about the wait. My computer or the website or something wouldn't let me update the teaser I was going to put up before I went on vacation. So it looked like I was back to my old ways of never posting chapters, but I WASN'T! So here's the teaser until I can finish chapter 7. I'm ALMOST done.**

After four days of recovery and going crazy in the hospital, Kate was told she could go home. Unlike the last time, they didn't mourn when she was released. This time she wasn't going back to prison, she was really going home. Jack was ecstatic, but Kate had to hide her uneasiness.

The car accident had frightened her and weakened her physically and emotionally; there was no doubt about that. When she thought she'd killed Jack just like she'd killed Tom, she wanted to die more than she ever had in her life. And yes, there were other times when she despaired and wanted to die, not that she would ever even think of suicide. If she believed it wasn't time, it wasn't time. But all the same, Kate recognized her frailty. This didn't change her mind about leaving Jack; in fact it cemented her decision.

She couldn't lean on him so heavily. She couldn't bring him down. All she was was a burden. Kate hated to be dependent, she hated to be tied down, but these were prices she would pay a thousand times to stay with Jack. What she refused to be was a burden. She was unstable, moody and hurting, and she wasn't offering anything that could redeem her pathetic state. It tore her heart out. She hadn't had the courage to bring up the subject because Jack had been so loving to her.

Every kiss on the forehead, every night vigil by her side, every soft, kind word made her want to change her mind. She would often get a lump in her throat, and a few times she cried openly. He would be concerned and she would brush it away.

She loved Jack more than ever. It was going to be the hardest thing she'd ever done.

They left the hospital in the late morning, him supporting her and guiding her to the car, her stepping gingerly, trying not to grimace, trying not to think about what he would say when she said she had to go.

"Are you doing okay?" Jack asked in her ear as they painstakingly ignored the several reporters and cameramen that followed them and hollered questions.

Kate closed her eyes for a moment. "Let's just get to the car."

The car was a rental, of course. She lay down in the backseat. Her breathing was labored, and her chest hurt as if she was on fire. She turned her face to the seat, away from Jack, who was perfect and somehow forced himself to deal with her. She couldn't let him do it anymore.


	9. Chapter 7

Kate must have fallen asleep on the short drive home – it was understandable, she guessed as she opened her groggy eyes. She was drugged up on so many things at the moment that she literally couldn't see straight. Each medicine seemed to give a different side affect so that she wasn't only in pain, but she was also dizzy, nauseous and sleepy all at the same time.

Jack opened the rear door and slowly helped her out of the car. She bit back a yelp as she half-sat up. His kind eyes hurt her the most. She was being tormented by kindness. God.

They made their way at a snail's pace out of the garage and into the apartment building, her arm over his shoulders for balance and his protective hand on the small of her back.

When they finally made their way up all of the stairs – why wasn't there an elevator? – and they were standing in front of the apartment door, Kate realized. She had to tell him she was leaving. She had to tell him now. Kate could not go into the place she had already begun to call home. If she stepped into that place right now, she would stay there forever, she knew it.

"Jack?"

Fumbling in his pocket for the keys, he looked up. He didn't suspect anything, she realized. It was as if the fight they had had, the fight that had almost killed them both, had been erased from his mind completely.

Now. Now. Just spit it out and get it over with.

"I can't stay here anymore." She blurted.

He gazed at her, not fully understanding. "What?"

"I can't live here. With you." She gasped, even though it hurt tremendously, her eyes already beginning to well up. "I can't take the anti-depressants. I can't give away my control over myself. I haven't had much to hold onto, but I've always had control over myself. My emotions and my decisions. Some of them were wrong, but they were still mine."

"Kate, you don't have to take those pills. You don't. I understand now. I swear I do. You can get over this without them –"

"But that's the thing!" Kate smiled sadly through her tears. "I don't think I can."

There was a silence as Jack took in the immensity of what she had just said and looked seriously at her for the first time. She could tell that he knew that these were not the babblings of a delirious, over-emotional version of herself. A glint of nervousness showed in his eyes.

"Bringing you down isn't fair. Don't you get it?" Kate cried, looking earnestly at him, shaking with despair. "I won't take anti-depressants and I won't get better. You've wasted a year of your life on me, maybe more if you count the island. You can't waste anymore." She allowed her head to sink onto his shoulder. "I'm sorry." She choked.

After a moment, she heard the door click open.

"Let's just sit down and talk inside." He said, and she could tell he was trying to retain his own sort of control over the situation. He was trying to remain calm.

"I can't go in there." She whispered.

"You have to."

She felt her defenses breaking down, and before she knew it, she was lying on the couch with a quilt pulled up to her chin and a bowl of soup next to her that she knew she wouldn't touch.

"Do you want the tv on?" Jack asked, avoiding her eyes.

"We can't drop this."

"I know." He sat down, looking like he was resisting the urge to pace up and down in front of her; tension was in every muscle of his body.

"You don't want to quit your job. Not really." Kate said.

"Yes, I do."

"Don't be a child, Jack." Kate's voice suddenly had a bite that she hadn't even prepared for. "You love your job. And…" she swallowed hard. "I love _you_ and that's why I have to leave."

He looked at her helplessly. He opened his mouth, not knowing what to day. Finally, he said weakly, "I need you to stay, Kate."

"You'll be fine in a few months." The cold clarity in which Kate said this hurt him more than anything she'd said; she could see that immediately. She could see the protective barrier he suddenly put up between them.

He stood up. "You need to get better. You're staying here until you get better, and then we can talk about this again. Okay?"

She gave him a long look. She searched his face for every detail. She realized she didn't even have a picture of them together and now they never would. The falseness of her soft "Okay" hurt her ears and Jack didn't notice.

At two-thirty AM, Kate got up and silently pulled a backpack from underneath the couch. In it was some water, a few apples, her meds and the goddamn plastic plane that she tried to throw away but couldn't. In her pocket was two hundred dollars. It was Jack's.

She pulled the backpack on and wrote a note in the darkness on the pad of paper that rested on the counter.

_Jack – I'm sorry I took your money. I'll pay you back. I'll send you money when I can. I'll pay for the lawyer too. I'm sorry but I never asked how much she cost. I guess I'm sorry for a lot of things. Don't worry about me. I've run with worse than a couple broken ribs._

She laid the pen down carefully and listened for Jack's quiet breathing from the next room. She wanted so badly just to walk into the room and lie down beside him, feel his warmth, be happy. She wanted to wake up and love him and then go to sleep at night and do the same thing over and over.

Kate closed the apartment door with the slightest click. She quietly walked down the stairs and out into the chilly air. Then she wiped her teary face and ran.

Jack woke to the sound of nothing. The first thing he saw was his blank ceiling, sunlight reflecting off of it. He sat up with a start. Something was wrong. It was completely silent in the house. He looked at the alarm clock next to his bed.

8:42. Kate should be up by now, making noise as dishes scraped against silverware, or humming. Kate hummed sometimes and she didn't even know she was doing it. Jack would ask her to stop if he was reading something, and she'd look at him, puzzled, and ask, "Stop what?" Jack shook his head, clearing his jumbled thoughts.

_Don't be ridiculous. _He told himself._ She just got back from the hospital, exhausted. She's probably still sleeping on the couch._ She said that sleeping in the bed would hurt her; he moved around in his sleep too much. He knew she had to be lying.

"Calm down." Jack said out loud. He was being so paranoid, and it was insensible. He got up and forced himself to take his time to cross the room. She was going to be sleeping on the couch. She wasn't really serious yesterday; she wasn't in the right state of mind. Kate wouldn't leave in the middle of the night.

But before Jack laid eyes on the empty living room, he knew that she would. Leave in the middle of the night was _exactly_ what Kate would do.

Nevertheless, he stood, frozen in despair at the sight of his apartment. The quilt lay folded neatly on the arm of the couch. Kate's coat was gone. There was a note on the counter.

Jack shakily sat down on the barstool and picked up the note. He read it twice, very slowly. He reached for the phone, dialed the hospital secretary.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Liz. It's Jack Shepherd. I won't be in today."

"Are you sick? There's a nasty flu going around –"

"I'm not sick." Jack told her firmly. "I'm quitting."

"What?"

"I'll be in to sign the papers tomorrow." He slammed the phone into its cradle. Jack let out his breath in a long hiss. He rubbed his hands over his eyes until he saw a mixture of purple spots and salt cloud his vision. He picked up the quilt and squeezed it so tightly to his chest that it hurt. He sank onto the couch.

He'd lost her so many times that he began to wonder if he'd ever found her at all.


	10. Sorry!

Hey, guys. I'm sorry for the huge wait for the next chapter, and I'm not even finished with it yet. Hopefully this weekend I will be. I've been going through some personal issues – okay, a lot of personal issues, and it's hard for me to write at the moment. But please, please, keep checking. I WILL finish this fic.


	11. Chapter 8

**A/N Okay, I'm so sorry for the very LOST-like hiatus (har har har) but I'm back again. I was going through a really rough time, so please forgive me. Anyways, the next chapter is the LAST ONE! and it'll be posted in a few days. **

After an hour or so of sitting numbly, his face in the quilt that Kate had left behind, he started wondering what to do. He felt completely and utterly helpless. For one, it was Kate's decision to leave, and he should have known that when she had told him she was leaving… she was leaving. He should have known that once her choice was made, nothing was going to change it. He should have known that something was wrong in the hospital when she cried for what he thought was no reason, when she refused to look at him while she sobbed to the ceiling.

How could he have been so stupid? And what now? Even if he could find her in this huge city, even if a miracle occurred and he walked right into her, he wouldn't know what to do then. Plead with her, grab her, yell at her… Jack pressed his hands to his eyes. He just wanted to talk to her about it. He just wanted to see her and be sure that she was going to be all right. He wanted to ask her if she had always thought that it would never work between them. If she had asked him at this very moment, he would honestly say that he didn't know; he didn't remember. All he could think about right now was Kate, alone on the street, too skinny, too small, wearing a brace around her midriff to heal her ribs.

He thought about calling Claire and asking her to tell him if Kate showed up at her house. But then Claire would want to know what happened, and he couldn't bear to say it out loud.

There was nothing else to do, but he had to move, had to feel like he'd at least tried to be useful, so he took his car keys and devoted his day to driving around the streets of LA, looking for his runaway.

Hours passed, and of course, he had not found her. He felt feverish, thinking of all of the things that could go wrong. Kate wasn't the luckiest girl he'd ever met, and the city was a dangerous place.

Jack slammed his fist onto the dashboard in frustration. He would not spend the rest of his life wondering what happened to Kate Austen. He would not constantly debate in his head whether she was dead or back in jail. Selfishly, he didn't think he could stand another sorrow in his life. Maybe he wasn't the luckiest person ever either.

He tried so hard to stay calm, to stop himself from going crazy with fury and grief, as he gave up at three in the morning, darkness hanging like a cloud in the car, suffocating him. He had driven around for almost eighteen hours with nothing to eat and no stops except at the gas station.

He crawled into bed with his clothes still on, not bothering to set his alarm. It was hopeless. Everything was futile. He should have known better on the island not to fall in love with Kate. She wasn't as simple a person as to just love you back and be happy. She would never love for long.

**

* * *

**

When he woke up a few hours later, every muscle in his body tired and aching with sadness, he thought about rolling over and sleeping some more, but he knew that he was awake for good. He walked into the living room. He surveyed its empty feel, realizing how little personality there was in it. For just a week, when Kate was there, it looked good. His eyes traveled dismally over the bare walls, the nondescript furniture, the unstained carpet…

He couldn't bear to look at them anymore, so he went back into the bedroom. With deliberation, he slid open the window and crawled out of it. He hooked his legs over the fire escape, and sat on the railing, staring down at the ground that was so far below.

He rarely felt vertigo, but he did now. His hands clenched on the railing, and her nervously clung to the cold metal, but not for a second did he consider going back into the empty apartment.

* * *

Kate lay on a park bench. She didn't know where she was or what time it was. She couldn't feel the biting cold and the sounds around her were muffled and tinny. Her ribs ached and stabbed with every breath. With great difficulty, she sat up and reached for her backpack to find her pain meds.

The backpack was gone. She had allowed herself to take a rest and close her eyes for ten minutes and it was gone. It had all of her meds.

Kate didn't swear in frustration of burst into tears. She certainly didn't think about going back to Jack's. She just lay back down, swallowing the painful lump in her throat, pretending the painful throb in her stomach wasn't there, and ignoring the pain of the fact that she was alone.

She always wanted to be alone. She wanted Wayne to leave her alone; she wanted the cops to leave her alone.

"Now I have what I want." She muttered bitterly. _And now I'm talking to myself._ She threw an arm across her eyes. _Jesus._

She didn't know what she was going to do. Where would she go? She was alone, alone, alone. The thought echoed through her head.

That was it. She couldn't stand it anymore; she had to go to a hotel, just for this night at least. Kate couldn't stand being in such an open place. There were no boundaries or walls or curtains. She felt like everyone was staring at her, even though they walked by without a second thought. But before she could muster the strength to get up, she fell asleep.

* * *

She awoke to the cold.

She slowly sat up, wincing as she did so. She moved her stiff legs off the bench and stretched them out in front of her, squeezing her eyes shut in pain.

She felt something heavy hit her knees, and then a loud yell of surprise.

"Goddamn! Watch it!" the same male voice roared at her.

She kept her eyes shut. They wouldn't open; they felt like lead.

But her eyes snapped open when the person who had tripped over her said, in a very different, very shocked tone,

"Kate?"

Standing right in front of her was Sawyer.

* * *

Sawyer stared at her as she stared back. Her eyes were red-rimmed and the skin on her face was a sickly grey color. She looked like she hadn't slept in weeks, and she held herself in a way that suggested that she was in pain. Her teeth were chattering. She wore no coat, only a pair of worn looking jeans and a thin grey sweatshirt. Her expression was surprised and something else, but he couldn't decide what.

Finally, he croaked, "What are you doing here?"

She continued to look him over silently for a moment before saying, "Just sitting." She sounded as if she was trying to be casual, as if she didn't realize how shitty she looked.

He didn't know whether to sit the hell down next to her or what. He finally took off his coat and handed it to her. She took it wordlessly, but made no effort to put it on. She looked down at it in her frostbitten hand like she didn't know what it was for.

"You put it on. It keeps you warm." Sawyer said sarcastically. What was wrong with her? For a second he even doubted this _was _Kate. Maybe it was a girl who looked just exactly like her. She didn't seem to even recognize him and she looked… he didn't know. Bad. Really bad.

She still didn't put the coat on, so he sat down next to her. Hell, what now?

"When did you get out?"

She didn't answer, though she turned her glance to him blankly.

"Of prison?" he prompted, getting aggravated.

She closed her eyes again, squeezing them shut and grimacing.

"What the hell's wrong with you?"

Her eyes remained closed, but she finally answered in a wavering, whispery voice, "Someone took my backpack."

Sawyer felt deep frustration boil up inside him. Jesus Christ. All he wanted was to find the hundred dollar bill he'd dropped in the goddamn park an hour ago. He never found it, but he did pickpocket a fifty and a twenty, so it almost made up for it. Anyway, this was not what he bargained for. A sick, incoherent chick who he'd hoped he'd never see again. Jesus Christ. And he thought he'd been able to escape the charming little island reunion someone had set up a couple of months ago.

Still, he couldn't just… Grumbling under his breath, he took one last look at Kate. Her eyes were blank and clouded and her nose was running a little. t made him uncomfortable.

He sighed. "Come on, I'm taking you to my car." He stood up and extended a hand to her. She wouldn't take it. A long minute passed by before, reluctant and hot-faced, Sawyer swore one more time, scooped her up like an oversized baby and began to carry her across the park.

* * *

Before she knew it, she was in a pickup truck. Her mind was all fuzzy and she had to keep looking at the driver to remember who he was. She felt worse than drunk; she felt like she was on the cusp of amnesia, weaving back and forth between worlds. Whenever she tried to speak and explain herself, she couldn't part her lips or no sound came out.

Kate's head was leaning against the window, and every time they hit a pothole, her forehead would slam against the glass. It hurt, but she couldn't control her muscles. She felt paralyzed. Her body was on fire. Her breaths started to come in rasps. She felt like she was dying.

The man who was driving… Sawyer… kept looking at her with a mix of concern and contempt, but as the silent car ride went on, the contempt slid away and she saw only the worry.

Suddenly they had come to a stop. He came around to the passenger side of the car and opened the door slowly, holding her up so she wouldn't fall out. He carried her into a bright, blurry place. It hurt her eyes.

She asked if the light could be turned off, or maybe she just thought it. Regardless, it wasn't. The man laid her carefully on a soft piece of furniture. She guessed it was a couch. He sat down beside her. The imbalance he made with the cushions hurt her ribs.

She heard him speak to her. She managed to hear the word "hospital".

She opened her mouth and miraculously managed to rasp, "I just need painkillers."

Before she knew it, a glass of water was held to her mouth, and somehow she swallowed. Then she drifted off though the pain lingered.


	12. Chapter 9

When she opened her eyes, Sawyer was no longer next to her. It was dark, but a lamp was on in a separate room, and a shaft of light fell across the couch she was on. Her body wasn't on fire anymore and her thoughts were clear.

Was she actually at Sawyer's home? Sitting up gingerly, she realized that he was there on the floor, leaning against the wall. She would have thought he was asleep, but he moved, and his eyes glittered in the half-dark resting on her. His hair was slightly shorter than it had been on the island but it still fell across his face.

"Sawyer?"

"Yeah?"

"I broke some ribs. I don't remember how many."

"You talking crazy again, or are you lucid?" he drawled, humor in his voice with a twinge of apprehension.

"Lucid." She said. "Sorry."

"Sorry you broke your ribs or sorry you almost died on me?"

"Where are we?"

"My house."

Kate gave an excruciating laugh. "You have a house?"

"Yep."

"Did you steal it?"

"No." He said slightly defensively.

"Then how'd you get it?"

He paused, and she knew he _had _stolen it somehow. "Where's Jack?" he asked pointedly.

She bit her lip. She thought about telling him everything. She thought the guy who had saved her life deserved to know. Then she realized he probably didn't want to. She remained silent.

"All righty then." He affirmed, businesslike. There was a long moment of silence between them. Finally Sawyer asked, "You tired?"

"No." Her mind was buzzing and she knew she wouldn't be able to sleep at all.

He moved out of the shaft of light and Kate couldn't see what he was doing. Suddenly, the room was filled with a greenish light as a t.v. that had been sitting on the carpet was flipped on. He sat back, looking at her, asking her silently if she was okay. She knew he'd never gather the courage to ask it out loud.

She smiled at him, and Sawyer actually grinned.

"All right, Sibyl." Sawyer said softly. He tossed her the remote, which she caught rather clumsily. "You can choose, but no shitty soap operas."

* * *

Jack stayed outside until his watch read one a.m. His breath coming out in puffs that he could see in the lamplight, he stiffly crawled back through the window. He walked into the kitchen, his back and neck hurting from the tension of shivering for so long. He sat down at the counter, exhaustion in every bone of his body. He reached for the phone and held it in his hand for a while before dialing 911. He knew she would hate him for it, if she was actually found. If she was ever stopped by the police, harassed, taken to the station, all for just doing what she wanted. But he had to do something.

It had been twenty-four hours since she'd left. He could report a missing person.

* * *

Kate actually did fall asleep after several hours of some dumb dating reality show, the only thing they could agree on after much bickering. When she woke up, sunlight was streaming through the window of the small living room. It was the only window, and it was somewhat small. The only things in the room were the beat-up couch she lay on, and the t.v. on the floor, which had been switched off. For a split second, the room reminded her of her prison cell, stuffy and empty. A prick of panic flared through her, and she sat up too quickly. She held her breath as she got up and hobbled as briskly as she could out of the room that reminded her of the hell on earth she'd been in for over a year.

The kitchen was empty apart from a rickety table, one chair and what looked like a hundred-year-old fridge in the corner. She leaned over the note that was placed on the edge of the table.

_I had to finish a job. Be back later._ was all it said, and Kate smiled. There was no apology and no explanation, and she didn't mind at all. How very Sawyer. Although once she thought about it, he did seem changed. He was as sarcastic and easily annoyed as ever, but he was quieter than he had been on the island; not so quick to retort or get the last word. And she had seen concern on his face, then relief when he saw she was okay.

She _was_ okay, right, she asked herself. Maybe. She didn't really want to think about it right now. She didn't know what her next plan of action was or how she was going to survive never thinking about Jack, but… _not now_, she told herself.

To occupy herself, she explored the house. It was a small ranch, and with every room she visited, it was more and more clear that Sawyer hadn't been here for very long, and probably didn't plan on staying. One room was completely empty, the bathroom didn't have a light, and the bedroom contained a ratty suitcase and a lumpy looking twin bed. Kate considered snooping through the suitcase, but decided against it. She pulled on a denim jacket that was lying on the floor and ventured outside.

The ranch was in the middle of the woods; it must have been fairly far from the city. Dead leaves littered the dirt road. There was an immense tire swing hanging from a tree a few feet away. With amusement, Kate noted that the outside of the house was painted a pale pink. Feeling better physically than she had felt since the car accident, she chose to remain outside and sat down on the swing, her feet trailing in the crackling frosted leaves.

She only had to wait about ten minutes before Sawyer's truck pulled in.

"What the hell're you doing outside when you almost froze to death yesterday?" he asked gruffly the second he'd opened the driver's door.

Kate smiled. "I'm fine. It's nice out now."

He walked slowly to her, scuffing his shoes against the ground. "Move over." He ordered, and Kate slid to the side of the tire. He sat down, back to back. She noticed he did it slowly so as not to jostle her. He squinted up at the sky for a moment before saying,

"There's cops looking for you in the city."

Her blood froze. She didn't _do _anything. Well, she took Jack's money. But he wouldn't… Jack wouldn't… it was only a couple hundred... she tried to ask why but it felt like something was lodged in her throat.

"It was on the radio." Sawyer said. "You're a missing person, apparently."

She let out a breath, feeling lightheaded. "That's all?"

"There something else I should know about?"

"No. I just…" she rubbed her forehead with her palms. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the rope that held the swing up. "I don't know. If I ever went back to prison…" she left the sentence open. They both knew that she would crack completely. She didn't really have to say it out loud. She tried to swallow the lump that had suddenly developed in her throat. "Sorry."

He didn't say anything, and when she opened her eyes and craned her neck to look at him, he was leaning forward on the swing, his eyes pointed in front of him, seeing something that wasn't there.

"Whatever the hell we're running from," Sawyer finally said in a low mutter, "is eventually going to bite us both in the ass." Kate could tell that he said it more to himself than to her.

They sat together on the swing, surprised at each other's subtle changes since they'd last seen each other, a year and a half ago on the island. Kate marveled at his seriousness, his grave silence, like he really wondered what was going on but would never ask. She appreciated that he wasn't going to. On the flip side, she could tell that he was startled by her frailty. She was too, she guessed. Ever since the day she was taken into prison, she had been eaten away at until she was just a shell. She knew that he noticed.

She hated being a shell. She hated herself for letting go of everything. She needed to pull herself together, and she couldn't figure out how. Jack… she missed him already, but there was no way she could let him suffer through her pathetic living in the past. She could never get Iowa out of her goddamn head. Every once in a while, that guilt would creep in like a thick fog and her house would loom up in her mind, and so would her mother's face, and the diner, and fire and running. Iowa, where hell began to follow her.

_But it didn't _have_ to follow her_.

"Can I borrow your truck?" Kate asked suddenly.

"Why?" He jumped a little, her voice penetrating his deep thoughts.

"I have to tell Jack something."

He glared at her. "I ain't driving you to marriage counseling or anything…"

"I have to tell him to leave me alone. Who else would alert the police?" She stood up gingerly and put her hand out for the keys. With the news that she was going to tell off Jack, he suddenly changed his mind and handed them to her grudgingly.

"It would probably be a good idea if I could borrow your cell phone too, if you have one." She told him commandingly. "You know, just in case…"

He allowed himself one more glare at her before digging through his jeans pocket and handing her a cell phone too.

She beamed at him. "Thanks, Sawyer."

He nodded. "Anything for you, Freckles." He said sarcastically.

He remained seated as she climbed into the car, but he gave her a salute and the smallest of smiles as she drove away.

* * *

As he watched the car drive off, Sawyer heard his house phone ring, and he rushed in, thinking it might be that damn "client" that wouldn't leave him alone. The phone sat on the cracked counter. He picked it up.

"Yeah?" he asked irritably.

"Sawyer." He recognized Kate's voice instantly, and it was cheerful, almost… he rolled his eyes… _jolly._

"What?"

"I lied. I stole your truck. But I really wanted to thank you for taking care of me last night. It was very… saintly of you." Kate cheer made Sawyer grimace in annoyance, but it doubled once he realized a horrible thing – he'd just been conned.

"Where are you taking my goddamn truck?" he hollered into the phone.

"Iowa." Kate just laughed a little at his fury. "I'm taking your goddamn truck to Iowa."

* * *

Jack was listlessly reading the newspaper. Well, not so much reading as moving his eyes along the black ink of the paper, not at all paying attention. He started at the sudden loud tapping noise coming from his bedroom. He got up to investigate and opened the door cautiously.

Kate was standing on the fire escape, knocking on the window from the outside. She wore a huge denim jacket and the clothes she had been wearing two days ago. In the jacket, she looked smaller than she usually did, like she was shrinking in front of him. But she was fine. She was back and she was fine.

Jack rushed across the room and threw the window.

"Are you all right?" he asked immediately.

"I didn't come back to stay." Kate said flatly.

He felt his heart drop down in his stomach. For a second, he'd hoped… but he knew. She was only back for a final goodbye before she ran off. Before the cops saw her in the streets and interrogated her and frightened her. It was his fault, after all, and he shouldn't hold this against her. Not this, at least.

He looked at her miserably. Her cheeks had an almost feverish pink flush to them and her eyes were sparkling with something he couldn't decipher. The denim jacket nagged at him; it was a man's. Whose? He tried to calm himself. She probably just stole it from someone, she's not like that.

They stared at each other for a moment.

"Will you get inside?" Jack asked weakly, trying to grasp some sort of control over the situation.

She faltered. "I don't want to."

"I'm not going to lock you in."

She hesitated, and then climbed into the bedroom. She wrapped her arms around herself protectively and didn't say anything.

He bit his lip from asking a million questions. Where have you been? What are you going to do? Why did you have to leave me in the middle of the night? He settled with only one.

"How're you feeling?" he asked stiffly. He was aware of their awkwardness. They stood in the middle of the bedroom, a foot apart, looking around and avoiding eye contact.

She tried to smile. "Pretty good. Better."

"Good."

They stood there as if they were on a blind date and all conversation topics had bee exhausted.

Kate looked up at him suddenly. "I'm going to Iowa." She said wildly. "I need to go to Iowa. I don't know for how long and I don't know what the hell I'm going to do when I get there but it's chased me long enough and I can't stand it anymore."

She stared at him and he stared back. He saw the defiance in her expression and he knew that she expected him to protest, to remind her about the consequences of breaking parole, or to tell her it was a stupid idea.

"Okay." He said simply.

"I don't know if I'll come back." She tested.

He nodded seriously.

"Okay. I hope…" but he couldn't figure out how to finish his sentence. I hope it helps. I hope you'll be careful. I hope you're okay. He just left it there, incomplete, like their relationship. Their relationship was a mess of "I hopes". Instead he asked,

"Do you want something to eat before you go?"

"No. I'll get something on the way." She said.

"Do you have enough money? Do you want the rental car?" He couldn't help but try to watch over her, at least a little bit.

"I have a car. As for the money…" she tried to smile again. "I'll just rob a bank or something."

He gaped before she laughed a little and assured him that she was joking.

At the door, she gave him a hesitant hug and was the first to pull away. She averted her glassy eyes by bowing her head and mumbling a soft apology. Jack felt empty.

He collapsed on the couch. He stared at the blank t.v. screen. He tried to conjure up a feeling of anger towards her, for tearing everything apart, for turning everything he knew upside down. Kate had ruined all normalcy, all feelings of safety. On an island where everything was unpredictable, she was the wildest thing there. She was the one that surprised him most. She was the one he sacrificed everything for. Worst of all, she took all the control he ever had; the control that kept him sane, the control he needed ever since he was a kid. But he couldn't get angry with her. He clenched and unclenched his fists over and over again, attempting as hard as he could some feeling of scorn, resentment, anything.

He only felt empty and alone. She was gone.

But as his head dropped into his palms in grief, the front door creaked open. He sat up so quickly it hurt his neck.

Kate stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall. It took him a moment to realize that her face was wet with soundless tears. Her arms were still wrapped around her, head resting lightly on the doorframe.

Jack stood up but didn't move to her or say anything.

Kate swallowed hard and twisted the huge sleeves of her sweatshirt in her hands. Finally, in a soft, wavering voice, she spoke.

"Jack? Do you want to come with me?"

**FIN**

**A/N - Small epilogue soon to follow! **


	13. Epilogue

Kate stands staring at the waves hissing on the sand. She knows she has to go get changed in a few minutes, but at the moment, she's enjoying herself just thinking. She's had to do a lot of "just thinking" for the past year. It was a long year, but not a terrible one, not at all.

She can't believe it had been a whole year since Iowa.

They'd driven in Sawyer's truck for days and days, meandering as if they didn't even have a destination. Jack knew without asking that she was delaying the confrontation with her past. Sometimes they would talk and sometimes they wouldn't, soft music always coming out of the crackly radio. As soon as they opened their mouths to discuss that terrible week's events between them, Kate couldn't stop herself from spewing every thought about it out of her head. It felt good.

When they reached Kate's yard, Jack said he would wait for her in the car, but she had told him to come with her. She opened the door with cold, shaking hands and raised her eyes.

She didn't know what she'd expected. Maybe in her twisted mind she'd thought she'd see the house exactly as she'd left it – flames crawling through walls, smoke singing her face as she sped away into the dark. No, as she crossed the street and gazed ahead of her, she saw that any shred of evidence that her home was once there was gone. In place was a different house, a bigger house painted a pale yellow with blue shutters. There was a swing set in the front yard. Kate stepped closer, putting her hand out and touching with her fingertips the perfect white picket fence that enveloped this new house in… what? Happiness?

Jack touched her arm lightly. She felt herself lean back on him, her head resting on his shoulder.

"It's gone." She said flatly. "That's not my home… it never was my home." She gazed forward, and repeated to cement in her mind, "This was never my home."

She shuddered, and felt a great sigh escape her. Jack looked at her with concern, but she felt as if all of her pain was lifted out of her. She couldn't describe it, so she didn't say anything else.

Kate couldn't pry her hands off the fence, so she remained rooted to the ground. After about ten minutes, a woman came out of the house and tentatively called,

"Can I help you?"

Kate lifted her head and smiled a brilliant smile.

"You already have. Thank you." And she looked at Jack, and she looked at the house and at the woman who lived in this strange place she didn't know. She turned and crossed the street that was not hers and climbed into the car.

Now, on the beach, Kate smiles a little to herself. Not everything was perfect after that moment, of course not. But it was definitely better. And over time, she became herself, her real self. The one on the island. And now she is here.

"Kate."

She turns to see Jack, standing behind her, wearing a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt.

"Is that what you're going to wear today?" she asks him, smiling and giving him a soft kiss.

Jack laughs, putting his arm around her. "What about you?"

She looks down at her tank top and jean shorts. "I guess not." They stare at the waves together, feeling the salty air on their faces.

"I love the ocean." Kate murmurs.

"Hey, isn't seeing you right now back luck?" Jack asks suddenly, pulling away from her and studying her face.

Kate grins. "I've had enough bad luck for a lifetime. At this point, it can only get better." And she's right, she knows she is.

Jack looks at his watch. "It's almost nine. Are you ready?"

"I will be in a minute." Kate says softly. They sit down in the sand, and Kate leans her head against him. The wind blows her hair around, and she feels goosebumps on her arms. They sit silently; at this point, they don't need to talk to be heard. After a few minutes, she pulls herself to her feet, suddenly full of a wild energy.

"Okay, Jack, I'm ready." She says. "Let's go get married."

_Tabula rasa. _Finally.

* * *

**A/N - Wow, I can't believe I finally finished it. I actually started this project when I wrote my chapter on kate in my fic Troubled Water. That was a year and a half ago! Unbelieveable. Anyways, I hope you liked the ending. Thanks to all my reviewers, I've really appreciated your comments. Keep your eyes peeled for my new idea, I'll be posting the first chapter in a few days. I won't tell you anything except that it's going to be called Black Ice and Snow Angels. Intriguing, no:)**


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